


On-duty Musings

by bodaciousbillspreston



Category: Urinetown: The Musical - Hollmann/Kotis
Genre: Canon Compliant, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, between bobby's death and the beginning of we're not sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23336158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bodaciousbillspreston/pseuds/bodaciousbillspreston
Summary: what's going on inside lockstock's and barrel's respective minds while searching for the rebels' secret hideout.Barrel be like "what if we kissed,,, in the sewers,,, and we were both cops??? haha jk jk jk. unless?"
Relationships: Officer Lockstock/Officer Barrel
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	On-duty Musings

**Author's Note:**

> this goes out to all the theater kids whose shows were canceled because of ms. corona. I see you, and offer you this fic in these trying times. <3

The two policemen had been trudging through the sewers for what felt like days, but was probably only an hour or so. Every corner they turned led them down a tunnel with the same sepia toned walls as the tunnel they had just left. Light trickled in from the manhole covers and storm drains above them, reflecting off of the inch of muck that sat at the bottom of the sewers and stuck to their black boots. 

“Seems ancient, doesn’t it?” Officer Lockstock mused. “Sewers big enough for men to walk through. And storm drains. I can’t remember the last time we had a good summer storm.”

“Makes you wonder why they haven’t all been boarded up yet,” said the other man, just a few paces behind Lockstock. 

“Well, Mister Barrel, some people still cling to hope, as foolish as that sometimes is. For rain, for freedom, et cetera.”

“Ah, yes. Hope.” Barrel knew hope well, foolish as he was, staring ahead at Lockstock’s slicked back hair and perfect uniform. 

They continued walking in silence, keeping their eyes and ears peeled for any signs of the secret hideout where the rebels were keeping Cladwell’s daughter, Hope. What they had first thought to be another week of sending lawbreakers to Urinetown quickly became a matter of life and death. 

As focused as he seemed, Lockstock couldn’t stop thinking about young Bobby’s face as he careened off the UGC roof earlier that day. God, he was so young, wasn’t he? Nineteen years old, he never knew a world before the drought. Lockstock had seen many a terrified face in his years of law enforcement, but Bobby’s hit him in a way he didn’t expect. The boy had been fighting for what he thought was right, and some part of Lockstock admired that. Not the law-enforcing part, but deeper down among the tissues of his cold heart. He had looked away before Bobby hit the ground, but the sickening thud replayed in his mind over and over. He could see the boy trying desperately to grasp onto anything he could as he was shoved over the railing, wide eyes full of tears. Lockstock blinked hard to try and clear the image from his mind. 

They arrived at a ladder leading to a manhole cover that had been dislodged. Lockstock looked back at his partner, who nodded. It was definitely suspicious. Bobby’s gang were the only ones who had been sneaking around here, and that certainly wasn’t the manhole through which the two of them came down, was it? 

Lockstock climbed the ladder, leading the way for Barrel. That was the way it always had been. Lockstock and Barrel. The leader and the one who just followed along. Barrel didn’t mind it all that much. He liked having work to do, even if it was the gruesome task of sending people to Urinetown. It kept him focused, but sometimes, like today, his mind would wander to foolish matters. 

They stepped out into the afternoon sun, squinting. No sign of any rebels, but, Barrel thought, this might be his chance. He and Lockstock had known each other since the Stink Years, and every single day, Barrel ached for what they could be. But he was too much of a coward. He just followed orders. But he had a sinking feeling he might not make it past tomorrow. Lockstock was right, hope could be foolish. But only if you don’t take action. If you just hope, yearn, _pine_ , day after day after day, it eats you up inside. 

“Hmmm. Well, this may have been a false alarm.” Lockstock scoffed, scratching his head. “Seems like we ended up right where we started.”

“An absolute maze, that’s what the sewer system is,” Barrel agreed.

“I’m going back down to give it another look.” _Wait._ “You stay here to guard the streets.” Officer Barrel took a sharp breath. It was now or never. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, Mister Lockstock.” They looked at each other, and Barrel noticed for the first time, the hazel enigma of Lockstock’s eyes. 

Lockstock was stone-faced, but his heart began to beat faster. To him, Barrel hadn’t exactly been subtle with his feelings. Maybe it was just because Lockstock was such a secretive man. He knew Barrel’s entire life story, but he made sure that Barrel didn’t even know if he had any siblings. They were work partners. They didn’t need to know anything personal about each other, even if there was a sort of mutual pining situation going on. It would ruin the work dynamic. 

“Do you ever… have doubts about what we’re doing? About the killings and all?”

The thud-crunch of Bobby Strong hitting asphalt played in Lockstock’s mind. 

“It may surprise you to learn that sometimes, I do. But the health and security of this town are my primary concerns.” He looked at Barrel and smiled. “I love the people of this community, Mister Barrel. Very much.” He turned to step back into the sewers. “Cladwell’s edicts may be their only chance.”

“And this may be my only chance,” Barrel muttered to himself. Lockstock took a step down the ladder. 

Barrel stepped forward. “And I love you. Very much.” The dusty silence that followed was deafening. They locked eyes, as Lockstock was faced with the dilemma to end all dilemmas. 

Of course he loved him back. How could he not? Barrel’s enthusiasm, his cheery demeanor, the way he cleaned up a body with such tact, all added to his affection for him. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it back. It would ruin his objectivity as the narrator, and his perceived evil as a cop. And, if Barrel cared enough, surely he’d keep trying, right? 

“I see,” Lockstock said, and disappeared back to the sewers. 

“Oh,” Barrel said to himself. “That went well!”

**Author's Note:**

> and then barrel got killed by a bunch of angry rebels covered in dirt rip.  
> aka I don't know how to write angst for these dumb cops.


End file.
